


Confess Your Sins

by iwannafuckingdie



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25906267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwannafuckingdie/pseuds/iwannafuckingdie
Summary: Crowley decides to follow Aziraphale's advice and go to see a confessor, in a church. He doesn't know, but it's actually Aziraphale, behind the curtain, telling him to confess his sins. Aziraphale listens to his demon confessing his love for his angel friend.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	Confess Your Sins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ! This is my first AO3 fic, and also my first fic in English (which isn't my first language). The lyrics are from the song Losing My Religion by REM. I hope you'll like it !

_The lengths that I will go to  
The distance in your eyes  
Oh, no, I’ve said too much  
It set it up_

The stone angels seemed to judge him by their look. They overlooked on him from a few feet, and yet, Crowley could still spot their static eyes. Frozen between one heartbeat and the last, stone eyes, unmoved, expressionless. The stone angels terribly looked like the Lord’s angels. Emotionally, empathy, love deprived. Otherwise, how could they have let their brothers fall?

Crowley straightened his head, almost throwing his neck back. His hair got stuck in his collar, stuck to his neck as the rain was wetting his face. He closed his eyes, even though his glasses protected him. His lips naturally half-opened. A few moments later, he closed them, passed his tongue over them. The taste of the rain reminded him of Hell. He sighed.

It must’ve been at least a dozens of minutes since he was standing here. The church in front of him, upon which the angels were perched, looked at him through her large windows that looked like eyes. _The eyes are the windows of the soul._ Crowley almost chuckled, but his laugh choked on his throat before it even lived, an allegory of all these humans living upon the earth.

Decidedly, his thoughts were pretty dark tonight. It wasn’t new. It happened to him more often that he was willing to admit, those intrusive thoughts that always darkened every corner of his mind, except for his dearest bit, which could have brightened the blackest night. Aziraphale. Always, and again, Aziraphale, his smiles, his habits, his gestures, his voice, his way of staring at him, as if he wanted to hugged him, but he had to control himself, always at the last minute. Always Aziraphale, and his rather silly advices. Go see a confessor, he said, it will help you, he said.

What a thought ! And yet, Crowley was there. Aziraphale had told him to go to a church out of town, but Crowley didn’t listen. He thought that following half of an advice was better than not following at all the said-advice. So there he was, hesitating outside of a church, completely wet under the rain, trying to remember what Aziraphale had told him about consecrated places.

Crowley was going to burn himself if he walked inside, it was certain. However, Aziraphale had planned everything – he cared about Crowley’s mental health even more than the demon himself did – and had gave him shoes without doubt made especially for him, with soles so thighs that even Crowley, who was used to high heels, had forgotten how to walk properly. The lyrics of an old song came back to him as his foot was raising to step on an outside staircase.

_That’s me in the corner  
That’s me in the spotlight  
Losing my religion  
Trying to keep up with you  
And i don’t know if i can do it  
Oh, no i’ve said too much  
I haven’t said enough_

Aziraphale was literally twiddling with is thumbs. It was a calm night, this one. The rain must had discouraged the lonely souls that wandered around the church. Aziraphale was used to nights like this one. Anyway, this times, far fewer of people came in, but every other night, Aziraphale made a point about going to this church and help people.

He was hesitating about going home – Crowley probably wasn’t finished, but it was okay – when he heard the door, opening. The individual muttered something under his breath, something Aziraphale couldn’t hear, but he would have recognised this muttering alongside any other. His heart stopped, and a visibly tensed voice called:

\- Uh… Father?

Aziraphale could almost hear Crowley’s thoughts at this moment. He was certainly thinking something like _“Is this what I’m supposed to say? For somebody’s sake, what the hell am I doing here?”._ Aziraphale miracled his voice before he invited Crowley to take place inside the confessional. The angel listened to the demon’s step, coming closer and closer, then he pushed the door and Aziraphale thought at the last minute of miracling a curtain above the fence so they couldn’t see each other’s face.

\- Hello?

\- Hello, answered Aziraphale, with a shaking voice.

He pulled himself together, tried to control his voice and said:

\- I will be your confessor for tonight. Have you sinned?

Aziraphale thought he swooned when a second passed – what if Crowley recognized him? – but the demon finally answered:

\- I am the definition of sin.

Again, Aziraphale’s heart stopped, before he started beating again, so fast inside his chest, so strong it could almost drop. He forgot how to talk for a moment, until Crowley’s voice came to him another time, always so tensed, hesitating, like he didn’t belong here, and it was true:

\- Are you still there?

\- Yes, I am, forgive me. What have you done?

An immense guilt suddenly devoured Aziraphale and he felt like he was choking. He was betraying Crowley, and everything their relationship was based on. Trust. He was betraying Crowley’s trust, his friend, who suddenly surrended:

\- I, hum… I fulfilled almost all of my desires. I tempt people, push them to sin. I don’t ever say no to myself, if I want something, I will have it. I like to pollute people’s lives, make their lives even more unbearable than they already are. But my greatest sin, I didn’t even do it on purpose. It wasn’t planned, and at first, it was so innocent.

Aziraphale had hold his breath since Crowley’s first word, and when he ceased speaking, Aziraphale expired all the air he kept inside. Crowley’s greatest sin? Aziraphale definitely would have given anything to know it, to discover this great sin… He encouraged the demon to talk, a touch of guilt tickling him, but his curiosity stronger than anything else:

\- Your greatest sin ? 

\- The greatest, certainly, but also the most beautiful of all, Crowley sighed.

A silence instant passed, slowly, every second bringing the angel closer to implosion, a delicious torture that Aziraphale was surprised to adore with his whole being, and Crowley confessed:

\- I fell in love with my friend.

If Aziraphale’s heart had hoped for mercy this night, it wouldn’t get it. It seemed to drop in his chest as Crowley continued:

\- My best friend, actually. Oh, I’m sure you would love him... He’s kind, nice to everyone, always. He’s funny. And, he’s not supposed to be, but kind off a hedonist on the edges. He is… He is beautiful. He has a big heart, but he’s supposed to be my enemy, you know? We’re not made to love each other. Yet, I love him. I love him so much, if you knew… But how could he love me?

An angel passed by. A new silence, so long Aziraphale thought he had to pull himself together, and fast. Crowley indirectly confirmed by saying:

\- This is not rhetorical; you have the right to answer.

Aziraphale was frozen, and he thought about the stone angels, on the exterior façade of the wall. He was certain Crowley detailed them before he went inside, Aziraphale knew his friend too well… Friend. _Friend_ , repeated Aziraphale to himself as the silence grew longer, like an eternity between them. The angel had forgotten how to breathe.

On the other side of the curtain, was thanking somebody that the confessor couldn’t see his face. He had removed his glasses of his face, to give himself the feeling, maybe, that he could breathe a little easier under the intensity of his feelings, finally confessed to somebody. All those words that came through his lips, he had thought them in the darkest night, in the brightest day under the shining sun, under the hardest rain and the coldest snow, and yet, he never told them to anybody until now.

Finally, a soft voice that sounded like Aziraphale’s without really be his came to him:

\- You should tell him.

\- Tell him ? repeated Crowley.

A laughed escaped his mouth, and almost died in his throat in something that almost sounded more like a throb:

\- How? He can’t love me. He’s too pure for feelings such as this one. Too angelic.

Aziraphale felt his cheeks blushing. Did Crowley really think he was pure and angelic? The angel tried to focused and forget about his blushing:

\- Feelings, such as…?

\- Love. Desire...Lust.

Aziraphale couldn’t speak, or breathe. Even his heart stopped beating. _Lust. Love. Desire._ Was this how Crowley felt about him? Without telling him, all these years?

\- Is that how you feel about your friend? Lust?

The answer came in less than a heartbeat:

\- I love him. I desire him. I want to feel his skin against mine, his lips close to mine even though I know it will never happen. And honestly, I am satisfied with what we have. We are friends, and it’s the best I can hope for.

\- Kneel.

Crowley immediately stopped talking. Aziraphale took his own voice back, and repeated:

\- Kneel. 

He heard Crowley moving inside of his side of the confessional. Aziraphale came out of his side, and stood behind the closed door that separated them. Trembling, Crowley’s voice rose, like a prayer, like a sinner looking for redemption:

\- Aziraphale?

The demon sounded like someone in desperate search of an idol, completely devoted to the angel. Aziraphale opened the door between them. Crowley was kneeling in front of him, completely at his mercy, and Aziraphale could only look at his eyes, almost begging. The angel stroked Crowley’s hair, and the demon closed his eyes, but Aziraphale said:

\- Keep your eyes open, my dearest. I want to see every part of you.

Crowley opened his lips and said a few words as his voice was so vulnerable it looked like he could cry:

\- It’s a sin.

Aziraphale’s hand moved to Crowley’s cheeks, his thumbs caressed them gently. And the angel said:

\- Then let me sin, with you, for the rest of my life.

Crowley abandoned himself to Aziraphale when the angel bent over to kiss the demon. They kissed, over and over, until the sun rose through the church’s windows and the light fell over them, an angel and a demon who loved each other so much even a church couldn’t keep them apart.

_Every whisper  
Of every waking hour  
I’m choosing my confessions  
Trying to keep an eye on you  
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool  
Oh no, I’ve said too much  
I set it up_

_Consider this  
Consider this  
The hint of the century  
The slip that brought me  
To my knees failed  
What if all these fantasies  
Come flailing around  
Now I’ve said too much_

_I thought that I heard you laughing_  
I thought that I heard you sing  
I think I thought I saw you try


End file.
